Dusting off the old Blog!

Posted on by under Updates

How can it be that I haven’t written anything here since 2018? So much has happened, so much has changed. Here is a summary.

  1. After much consideration, I had Bariatric Surgery in November, 2018.
  2. Following the surgery I was in ICU overnight because they couldn’t get my blood pressure down after surgery. It was downright scary, but thankfully I survived.
  3. Had an overall difficult recovery from surgery that lasted a few months. Had to get several infusions.
  4. I rapidly lost 50 pounds, and then started regaining weight!
  5. Regaining about twenty pounds so shortly after surgery led to much despair and frustration and I became more immobile and debilitated than ever.
  6. Sought out help and counseling from the bariatric surgeon’s office and was diagnosed with binge eating disorder.
  7. Tried various meds and even injections to stop the weight gain. I stopped gaining, but I didn’t lose.
  8. My dad, a dairy farmer had a serious stroke in Spring, 2019. He survived but he has a very difficult time talking, lost the use of one of his arms, and no longer able to be active on the farm. My mom became his caregiver and my siblings (and sometimes me) all help mom with his care.
  9. Had some very helpful counseling from Lora Grabow (in person counseling).
  10. Heard a podcast by Dr. Vera Tarman and I really identified!
  11. Read Dr. Tarman’s book called Food Junkies. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED!
  12. In Dr. Tarman’s book she talked about getting in patient treatment for food addiction, and I started to wonder if that was something I could do. She listed a few places in her book.
  13. The closest treatment location to me was in Minnesota. I sent them off a very honest email about my plight and financial situation. They blessed me with a partial scholarship that allowed me attend COR Retreat. It was the best thing I have done for myself in many years.
  14. Here is my story of how COR Retreat changed my life. That was written TWO years ago! But everything I said there is still true now.
  15. When I got home from COR, the pandemic began. I had no idea how much it would change my life and my family.
  16. In October, 2020, before vaccines were available to us, our family became ill with COVID.
  17. The kids and I recovered. It took me a few months to get my sense of taste and smell back, but I have probably 90% of it back.
  18. My husband Dean, who at the time had no risk factors, also got Covid (managed at home, never hospitalized), but he has never recovered. He became a “Covid Longhauler”. The day he got Covid, he played football in the yard with the kids. He has never played with them in the yard since that day. While this has been probably the most challenging ordeal we have been through as a family, it has strengthened our faith in God and drawn us closer to Him and one another. Dean is on disability, unable to work and drive. I am now his caregiver. We have told our story many times to bring awareness of this awful condition. I plan to dedicate a separate story and post to summarizing Dean’s story.
  19. After many years of homeschooling, we sent our daughter to a Christian school in January, 2020. I started working part-time job to help pay her tuition. We continued to homeschool our son. But then we decided it would be good to send him to the same school as well. So instead of homeschooling, I increased my work and eventually started my own LLC for my contracting business. That has helped supplement my husband’s disability.
  20. I continue to work my recovery program and stay involved with online meetings through COR Retreat. I have lost 145 pounds, and I am still slowly losing.
  21. I had a major foot surgery (a fusion) December, 2022 and currently recovering, which gives me enough time to do this update! I am facing the same surgery on the other foot and two knee replacements, but not sure of the timing yet. One day at a time!
  22. God continues to provide EVERYTHING we need and more through His providing for our family through my work and throught the incredible generosity of family, friends, church and school. I have never felt more secure in God’s love and caring provision, because I have seen Him provide for us over and over and over.

#longCovid #bariatricsurgery #longCovidawareness #weightlosssurgery #weightlossstory

I Am Persuaded that He is Able

Posted on by under faith, grace

My Story of Faith (Part 2)

Despite my changed heart, things were still tough at home throughout my teenage years.  I felt consoled in my heart about salvation and had hope for eternal life, but this did not impact behavior towards my parents. However, I started independently praying, reading my Bible, and paying more attention to preaching and Sunday school lessons at church.

One day a minister at our church preached a sermon and briefly talked about the unpardonable sin.  (See Matthew 12:22-32.) I felt almost sick, recalling how I had cursed God in the closet. I despaired and became convinced that I had ruined everything and was condemned to spend eternity in hell.  Still grieving my uncle’s death, I feared I would never see him again either.

I started looking up information about the unpardonable sin. This was long before google.  I searched church library books, a commentary in the library, and church documents in the back of the hymnal.  Unable to find any clear answers, I became convinced that my salvation had been lost forever.

Months went by in this guilt-ridden frame of mind. Finally, one day I nervously asked the minister if I could speak with him.  I needed to know once and for all if I was condemned forever.  I don’t remember too much about our conversation,  except for one thing he said:

“The very fact that you are so concerned demonstrates that the Holy Spirit is working in your life. If you had truly committed the unpardonable sin, you wouldn’t even care.”

This conversation was such a relief. My mind stopped spinning with guilt, and I was finally able to put it behind me.*

I know not how this saving faithTo me He did impart,Nor how believing in His WordWrought peace within my heart. (2)

From that point, I was fully committed as a Christian.  At age 16, I wanted to become a member of our church and participate in communion. But instead of following Christ, I became all about following the rules.

Almost immediately,  I focused on my own deeds and actions, instead of Christ the Savior. I was keen on emphasizing what I  (and others) were supposed to do or not do, but didn’t consider what Christ did on my behalf. Author Elyse Fitzpatrick calls this “spiritual amnesia”.

Meanwhile at home, I was still doing battle with my parents. Somehow, the commandment about honoring your father and mother was one I chose to ignore.  I was blind to my own faults and often focused on the faults of others.

Ironically, I was known to be a trustworthy and responsible babysitter.  I was a decent student.  I participated in church groups and committees at a young age. Most people didn’t know how rude I was to my parents at home.  I also developed an addiction to candy and sneaking food.

Please don’t misunderstand. All the high school years were not completely awful and miserable.  I had a core group of good friends.  My mom tried to help me the best she could.  I have good memories, too. But my temper and the strife I caused in the family casts a dark shadow over those years.

Recalling these things is embarrassing.  Yet, there is a reason for doing so.

If God can forgive a sinful, cursing, and often angry young girl, he can forgive anyone.  Sure, maybe I was a “good girl”.  I didn’t drink, smoke, do drugs, or have sex.    Instead , I tried to show myself as someone who did everything right and legalistically followed all the rules,  while wreaking havoc at home.

Jesus had some pretty harsh words for hypocrites.

 “Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You are like whitewashed tombs, which look beautiful on the outside but on the inside are full of the bones of the dead and everything unclean.  In the same way, on the outside you appear to people as righteous but on the inside you are full of hypocrisy and wickedness.” (Matthew 23:27, 28 NIV)

I know I was a hypocrite then, and I’m certain there are some ways in which I am still a hypocrite.

Yet, God has redeemed me.  I’ve confessed those sins of the past and asked for forgiveness.  (I will explain more how that came about in the next post.) I’ve trusted in Jesus Christ’s sacrifice on my behalf. My past sins are covered by the blood of my Savior, which he shed on the cross.  This is humbling.  There is nothing I personally can do to save myself.  What a comfort.  It’s not all on me.

Being a “good girl” was a facade, nothing more.  It didn’t gain me good standing with God.  Only Jesus, God’s Son, could do that.

In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God’s grace.  (Ephesians 1:7 NIV)

Today I can say “I am forgiven.  I am loved by God.” This is only possible through Jesus Christ,  only by the mercy of my heavenly Father.   Knowing full well my weaknesses and innumerable failures, then and now,  I am humbled to know how much I am also loved and forgiven and accepted through the gift of the Cross.

But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. (Romans 5:8, NASB)

 

*For a very helpful article about the unpardonable sin, click here.

In this post I’ve talked about God as the Father, Jesus Christ (the Son) and the Holy Spirit.  This is the Trinity.  For a simple explanation, I suggest this link.

For part one of my faith story, click here.

Stay tuned for part 3…

 

 

I know Whom I Have Believed

Posted on by under faith, family history, grace, heaven, trust

My story of faith (Part 1)

Maybe I could keep it really sweet and simple and leave it at that:  When I was 5 years old, I recall praying in the corner of the kitchen while my mom was cooking supper. I asked Jesus to forgive my sins and come into my heart, then shyly let her know.    I don’t recall what proceeded those moments.I know not why God_s wondrous graceTo me He hath made known,Nor why, unworthy, Christ in loveRedeemed me for His own.

If I could only leave my story there and say “the end”.  Sweet and simple.

Family life had deep Christian roots.  I was baptized as an infant and raised by Christian parents who read the Bible and prayed after our supper meal every day.  We attended church morning and evening  on Sundays, as well as  Sunday School, catechism classes and mid-week youth activities.  I was educated in a Christian school.  My parents were training up their children as they had been trained by their own parents. I am thankful that I personally knew several of my great-grandparents who also left a legacy of faith.

From that first prayer, and even before, the Holy Spirit was at work in my life.

The rest of the story  seems darker.  Maybe it didn’t have to be, but it has been.

True confession:  I haven’t often wanted to share the gospel with others.  Hard to explain why, but it’s true.  I am confessing this, red-faced and embarrassed.  When I think about sharing the gospel out loud, I think “What is there endearing about it? Who would believe this, and why?”  It is so much to take in, so much to explain.

It is also true and trustworthy, the Word of our Father and Creator, God.

In the gospel (the good news) of Jesus Christ there is incredible comfort and hope.  But on the surface, living life, there is also lots of trouble.  Jesus Himself tells us “In this world you will have trouble…” (John 16:33)

Friends, I have had trouble in this world.  (Haven’t we all?)

(God, please help me to express this the way I should and in a way that honors You.)

As a kid, I often thought I was getting the bad end of the deal.    I developed some pretty negative thinking.  In junior high, it only got worse.   Christianity, to me at that time was a set of rules that I performed to please people and keep out of trouble, not something I  took seriously.

I  started having issues at home.  Mainly, I thought life was unfair,  became angry, and caused a great deal of strife.

Outwardly, I conformed to all the rules.  I managed fairly well at church and school. Inwardly, I was upset all the time, and my parents and siblings bore the brunt of it.   I argued about everything.  Without being rebellious or wild in the  classic sense of the word, I tried to push all the boundaries. Primarily it was in how I communicated, which was disrespectfully and with a quick temper.  This wasn’t just for a small period of time.  It lasted pretty much all the way through high school.

When I was in 7th grade, my mom’s brother had been diagnosed with cancer, and it started to spread rapidly. He was a fun, kind uncle and  had a great sense of humor.  He also had a deep faith and trust in God, having suffered with cancer for several years. Because of him, I became aware of the brevity of life, and I seriously started to wonder if I would go to heaven if I died. As I watched what he was going through, I agonized about these questions for quite some time.

One day  I remember having  one of those terrible arguments with my parents.  I went and sat on the floor of my dark closet and cursed God.  Literally, I said swear words to God.  I felt sick inside about how I lashed out, but soon forgot.  (More about this in part 2, not yet published.)

In February, 1985  this dear uncle passed away, surrounded by family.  I loved hearing how his last words expressed  his certainty of  heaven.  I started to wonder, “Is heaven real?  Will I see him again? If it is real, will I see him again?”

Sitting in my bedroom one evening I opened the Bible to Psalm 34, and the words changed my life, forever. It was the first time the Scripture became real and personal to me. (To this day, it is my favorite Psalm.)  I found a measure of peace I didn’t have before, and comfort that God’s promises were true.

 I sought the Lord, and He answered me,
And delivered me from all my fears.

The Lord is near to the brokenhearted
And saves those who are crushed in spirit.

The Lord redeems the soul of His servants,
And none of those who take refuge in Him will be condemned.

Psalm 34:4,18 and 22 (ESV)

Coming soon….part 2!

Wondering more about the gospel?  Here is a great place to start. 

Let’s Not Get All Riled Up About Roundup

Posted on by under current events, health

Reconsidering Glyphosate

gly·phos·ate

ˈɡlīfəˌsāt/

noun

a synthetic compound that is a nonselective systemic herbicide, particularly effective against perennial weeds.
Let’s get one thing out of the way:  I realize this is a hot button controversial topic, and it’s unlike anything else I’ve ever written.  If you are a friend reading this, and you are against the use of glyphosate, I still consider you a friend, and I hope you still consider me yours.   I would think that this issue should not affect our friendship in the least.  Let’s just agree to disagree, okay?  But if you are willing, please hear my side.  

Roundup QuikPro-6.8 lb 

I’ve seen numerous posts  and pictures memes floating out there on social media against glyphosate by people who don’t know the whole story. To me, this is personal.

When all the negative publicity about modern agriculture in the United States started floating around 10 years ago (at least in my world) about  topics such as organic produce, anti GMO’s, anti pesticide/herbicide), it really bothered me. After all, I was a brand new mom and, perhaps, conscientious to a fault. I wanted to protect my baby and make sure that he had the best possible start to life.  I certainly didn’t want my child exposed to toxic chemicals, and was wondering if it was worth the extra expense and effort to buy organic food for our family.

On the other hand, my dad is a third generation farmer on a dairy farm which was started by my great-grandfather. He has invested his entire life’s work to care for his family’s land.  It has always been his goal to help the farm produce good food for the dairy cows, to be successful, and provide for his own family.

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When my son was newborn, I first brought up the topic to my Dad to ask what he used on his crops, and find out his perspective. I was surprised to learn that he is the person on the farm who is the certified pesticide applicator, which allows him to purchase and apply commercial grade herbicides. Do you think he would want to be out there on the  family farm, spreading something that would hurt his family and causing harm to the soil and his dairy cows?   

If you know my dad, the answer to that is  a firm “no”. My dad, his brothers and the nephews who are now continuing the farm, all truly care about the fields, the cows and their own families. Dad’s favorite part of farming is being out on the land, planting crops, watching them flourish and harvesting them. He would not want to hurt his land, poison his own animals, and much less harm his own grandchildren. 

I learned in talking to my dad that there are many benefits in using glyphosate. The points below are definitely not exhaustive.  They are a few brief summaries.  (Please see the links at the bottom of this page for much more specific information.) 

  • Glyphosates control weeds.  Controlled weeds help provide higher yields.
  • Higher yields can allow more food to be produced while using less land.
  • Less land utilized means the land can be used in diverse ways, and it conserves soil.
  • Glyphosate is actually  more safe and less toxic than some products used by organic farmers. 
  • The alternative for glyphosate would likely mean more frequent tillling to control weeds.  This would reduce yields, cause loss of moisture, and it also stresses and erodes the soil.
  • If glyphosate is restricted, there would be less crop yields and food prices would increase.
  • Glyphosate has been studied numerous times throughout the world over the past 40 years and they have not been found to be harmful to humans.
  • Dad says when they first started using glyphosate it was a great improvement compared to using more dangerous and poison herbicides that they previously applied, such as atrazine and alochlor.

 

I know that “organic” sounds like a good word, and ‘herbicide” sounds like a bad word, but that doesn’t mean all herbicides are bad.

I know the argument is that natural is better, and for the most part, I believe that too.   

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My dairy farmer dad with his grandchildren

The men on my family’s 100 year old dairy farm are continuously aware that they are stewards of their farmland.  They do everything they can to give good care to the land so that it will flourish.  Yes, weeds and thorns are part of the curse in the Bible (see Genesis 3:17-19), but we are also told to fill the earth and subdue it (Gen. 2:15).  God gave us dominion over His creation (Gen. 1:26).   Taking dominion means that we make good use of the land, and  I personally believe that using  glyphosate doesn’t compromise that in any way.   The truth is that there have been numerous studies and glyphosate has not been shown to be harmful to humans.  It helps conserve the earth and allows for a safe, productive food supply.    

Yes, you are welcome to disagree.  Remember my first paragraph above? Feel free to comment below.  (All comments are moderated before they are published.)  I have provided some links below that explain facts and details about this issue much better than I can.  I hope you will read some of them if you are still skeptical:

  From Scientific American:  Mythbusting 101:  Organic Farming > Conventional Agriculture

A recent Yahoo news story:  Large U.S. Farm Study Finds No Cancer Link to Monsanto weedkiller

The study from the story above:  Glyphosate Use and Cancer Incidence in the Agricultural Health Study

This article is fascinating, citing studies that show how glyphosate has reduced CO2 emissions and increased soil conservation:  Everything in Agriculture is a Trade-Off

From The New Yorker:  Roundup and Risk Assessment

From Genetic Literacy Project:  Is Glyphosate (Roundup) Dangerous? 

I didn’t talk about GMO’s specifically in this article, but this is a fantastic and detailed post on The Peterson Farm Blog if you wish to delve into that issue as well:  Advocating for Truth:  GMOs

 

Missing Sara

Posted on by under faith, family history, grief, trust

A true friend is the greatest of all blessings, and that which we take the least care of all to acquire. -Francois de La Rochefoucauld

Sara was a friend. Not just to me, but to many others. I’ve wanted to write about her for a long time, but the memories were bittersweet. I struggled to gather the words.

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Karen and Sara

Our story of friendship begins over 100 years ago with a brother and sister named Fred and Henrietta, the children of Dutch immigrants. Fred and Henrietta grew up, found spouses, married, lived a few houses apart, and both had families of their own. Fred took over his dad’s dairy farm. In 1947, Fred’s wife gave birth to a boy, Marvin. Henrietta gave birth to a son, David.

Marvin and David weren’t just cousins who happened to be neighbors. They became best friends. They went to the same church, the same Sunday school, and the same elementary and high schools. They played baseball at the farm and went to 4H Tractor Club. On Sunday afternoons they took walks, wandering around the Twin Lakes area.

Marvin and David grew up and each was married in 1970. Both became fathers for the first time in 1971 and they both had baby girls. That was Sara and me.

I suppose Sara and I played together since we were old enough to toddle around. Our parents often got together on weekends and for Bible study. Every year we attended New Year’s Eve service at church and then spent the evening talking, eating and playing games with our siblings until the exciting countdown to midnight. The next morning we would be at church, starting the New Year in God’s house.

Just like our dads, we attended the same church and Sunday school. We were in the same classes and grades all through our years at North Christian grade school. We played long days together in the summer, wandering all around the farm by Twin Lakes and often had sleepovers.  There were hours in her room with her amazing Barbie townhouse, complete with elevator. We dug up dusty dry calf bones behind the farm and pretended we had found an ancient dinosaur land.

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Riding bikes in 1982

John Deere mountain was what we named our special spot. We perched ourselves in the tall grass on a small hill above the farm. We hid there, talking and laughing as only two little girls can do. At my folk’s house we mixed up crazy concoctions in the kitchen and played with the cassette tape recorder for hours, creating silly radio programs and listening to them while we giggled late into the night.

Starting in second grade we took piano lessons together with Mrs. Grit.  Our moms took turns carpooling. The day that the tornado hit Kalamazoo in 1980, we were at Mrs. Grit’s house for our weekly lesson. We stopped at my aunt’s house to shelter in her cellar because my mom spotted the tornado over Westwood as she was driving us home. When Mrs. Grit moved to Costa Rica with her family to be missionaries, we switched to Mrs. Manni. We took turns  sitting at the dining room table and doing homework while the other had her lesson.

In high school, my cousin drove us to school every day for a couple of semesters. We sometimes carpooled to basketball games, cheering for our Kalamazoo Christian Comets.  We had several friends in common. After  graduating in 1989, Sara stayed at home with her folks and went to college. I moved in with my grandparents and went to work at a doctor’s office. We soon started getting together with friends every Sunday night after church. These were some of the happiest days I remember. Sara started dating Steve, the good-looking fellow who showed up in our Sunday school class in 6th grade. Many of us girls swooned over him, but it was Sara who won his heart.

I went away to college for one year. When I returned  home to Kalamazoo, Sara and I rented an apartment together. It was her first place away from her parents. We had great fun furnishing and decorating our little place. She would come home from her job at the flower shop and have Adventures in Odyssey on her car radio. I would have the radio on in the apartment and we would finish listening together. I can’t say how many nights were spent staying up late, talking and giggling.  There were serious conversations too, about our faith and relationships. It is almost crazy to admit, but at age 19, we joined with a group of friends for our first and only ballet class.  It was so fun(ny)! We loved having friends over and started a Bible study, too.

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Sara talking on the phone and washing dishes in our apartment, 1992

 

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A personal note from Sara.  The front of the card was inscribed with a verse:  “I know the plans I have for you,” says the Lord, “plans for good and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.” -Jeremiah 29:11

One fine summer day, we were feeling a little tired and dull. We jumped into our friend  Jeff’s red Chevy Lumina  and he drove  a group of us to Lake Michigan. At the state park entrance booth, Sara pretended to give an order for McDonald’s, as if we were at the drive-thru. Because of that, we could not stop laughing. The guys gave up on us and walked down to the beach, but we remained in the back seat, rolling around, laughing and crying for at least ten more minutes. Then we laughed our way down to the beach; into the sun and waves and joy of a carefree day.

Tis the privilege of friendship to talk nonsense, and to have her nonsense respected. –Charles Lamb

On a warm August night in 1992, I had the honor of playing the piano for Sara and Steve’s wedding. Going though my old piano books, I found songs I heard her play while sitting at the dining room table doing homework at Mrs. Manni’s house. I found Scarlatti, Bach, Mozart and hymns from Sunday School. All my heart went into that prelude. Our friend Rhonda and her dad sang a duet and I played the piano for that too. Imagine my surprise when I walked out of the church, and there was our first piano teacher, Mrs. Grit!

Sara started teaching school and settled into married life. I married a couple of years later, and moved out of state. Sara and I wrote letters and talked on the phone at first, but gradually we became busy and didn’t keep up. Sara and Steve eventually had six children and started homeschooling. Despite living out of state, I could count on seeing Sara and our group of friends every New Year’s Eve or 4th of July whenever I was in Kalamazoo.  It was always easy to get together on these occasions and catch up on our lives.  Eventually I moved back and we continued our tradition of gathering with our friends twice a year.

Nearly every time a year turned over, Sara and I were together.

These days our parents still get together. They go out to eat. Once a month they still have Bible study with their group of friends. You will always find them celebrating New Year’s Eve at one or the other’s home.

John Deere Mountain is gone now, excavated flat to the ground.

Sara is gone too. She left us suddenly one day seven years ago. She fed her family supper, went to lay down for a rest, and quietly slipped away to heaven. We later learned she had a rare heart condition.

For a long time my heart went flat too. Flat with missing, flat with grief. Flat with fear of loving and losing. It is taking a long time to heal and maybe it never will.

I have had losses. I’ve lost babies. I’ve lost my uncle. I’ve lost young friends and old friends and great aunts and uncles and grandparents. Truthfully, I don’t cry about them anymore, but sometimes I still cry about Sara.  I miss laughing together. Really, I just miss her.

john-deere-mountain

Sara and Karen on John Deere Mountain, drawn by Esther Kamps.*

Sara had a way of spending time, listening and being present with people. You can see by her notes that she was also an encourager. People were drawn to her, but she never wanted to draw attention to herself. She was living her dream of family, children and homeschooling. God only knows why her time was up, but it was. Sara trusted God with all her heart. I trust Him too, but  I admit it took  time to trust again after she was gone. I have faith in God that I will see her again and  someday all the sorrow of missing her will be gone forever.

 

We call that person who has lost his father, an orphan; and a widower that man who has lost his wife. But that man who has known the immense unhappiness of losing a friend, by what name do we call him? Here every language is silent and holds its peace in impotence. -Joseph Roux

For More Information

News article about Sara from The Kalamazoo Gazette

An online memorial (note this was created by someone named Karen, but not myself)

Update on the family  – God is amazing!

Plainwell couple celebrates new love, new life and 9 children (P.S.  Make that 11 blessings.)

*Some years ago I wrote down memories of Sara from childhood to give to Sara’s children, similar to what I’ve shared here. Mrs. Kamps  sketched this lovely picture for me to include with the stories.

You comments are always welcome and appreciated. If you knew Sara and have a memory you’d like to share, you are welcome to add those in the comments too.  I’m sure family and friends would enjoy reading them. Note: I  moderate comments to prevent spam, so they will appear after I’ve approved them.

Josephine and Henry

Posted on by under family history, Geneology, marriage

“So Grandma,” I said one day as she was showing me how to make her favorite lemon pie (complete with lard pie crust), “How is it that you met Grandpa, since you grew up in Iowa?”

Grandma blushed and smiled, thinking of the day she met Henry Balkema.

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My Grandpa.  To me, he was a legend in his own time. Henry Balkema was strong as an ox with twinkling, crinkled eyes and a jolly laugh who grew up in Kalamazoo, Michigan.  He was the son of Dutch immigrants and the third born of ten children.  He worked for his dad, starting out as a pooper scooper for the horses at age five.  Later on, he drove trucks to haul celery and flowers from Kalamazoo to Chicago.

Grandpa loved horses, and if he had lived in the west, I’m certain he would have been a cowboy. I’ve been told that as a young man he rode two horses bareback through Upjohn Park one day.  However, the day we were making  pie, he was  hauling gravel in the dump truck from his gravel pit.

“When I was 17,” Grandma said, “Mom decided I should  visit my dad and siblings in Michigan.  It was quite a trip for me.  I had never been so far away from home alone.  I took the train from Iowa, through Chicago and then up to Kalamazoo. Other than the visit from my dad, Anne and John, when I was thirteen, I had never seen them. ”

Josephineparents

Josephine with her parents, Dick and Jennie VanSant in 1940.

“Weren’t you nervous?” I asked.

“Oh yes, I sure was, but my brother John picked me up at the train.  You know, your Uncle John?”

I nodded. Yes, I knew great Uncle John VanDyk. He lived down the road from us a mile or two.

“John had a good sense of humor.  He picked me up from the train station and I quickly felt at ease with him.  On the way to my dad’s house, he stopped at the gas station. I didn’t know it at the time, but your Grandpa was also at the gas station.  That was the first time Henry saw me.  He didn’t introduce himself, but told me later he was instantly smitten.”  Grandma smiled and wiped her hands on her blue and white checkered apron.   “Boy, was he smitten.”

“So when did you meet him?” I asked. Grandma put that pie crust together so quickly, I pretty much missed what she did. Maybe I would catch it next time.

“The next day, John drove me around Kalamazoo for a tour. I didn’t know it at the time, but he had often told the Balkemas he had a  pretty blonde-haired sister in Iowa. My dad lived on Walter street, and the Balkema family was their neighbor around the corner a couple of blocks from them on Vine Street.   They were good friends, and John worked for them too.”

Grandma put the pie crust in the oven and started separating eggs for the pie as she continued her story.

“John and I walked into Balkema’s house and he started to introduce me to some of the girls.  At that moment, your Grandpa came down the steps, and you’ll never guess what he did next!”

Grandma took out her glass lemon squeezer and went to work getting juice out of the lemon, leaving me in suspense a few moments.  She looked up at me with laughing eyes, knowing I was waiting impatiently.

“He came straight down the steps,  gave me a hug and kiss and said ‘Josephine, I’m going to marry you!’

“What?” I said, shocked.  “What did you say to him?”

“I don’t think I said anything,” she shook her head,  “I really  had no choice in the matter.”

That was the beginning of their courtship.

Grandma started up the stove to cook the lemon filling. “Our first date was the Root Beer Stand.  You know the one on Cork Street? ”

I nodded.  I had been there several times with Grandpa and Grandma.

“When I went back home to Iowa, Henry started writing me big letters.  I found out later he showed all the lettters to his mother first, and they were  pretty much alike.”

“What did they say, Grandma?”  I watched as she whisked the filling on the stove. “Well, that is, if you don’t mind telling me?”

“You know, Grandpa only went to second grade, and he didn’t write very well.  Most of his letters wrote the same scrawling lines over and over;”  Grandma paused from stirring and smiled to think of it.  They said, ‘I love you!  I love you! I  love you!'”

IMG_20160311_0002

 

Josephine’s Lemon Pie Recipe

2 egg yolks (Use the whites for meringue)

1 cup sugar

1 cup water

1 T. butter

1 T. cornstarch (heaping)

Juice and rind of one lemon.

Cook together till thickened.  Pour into baked pie crust.  Use egg whites to make meringue.  Cool in refrigerator.

*Note to those of you who arrived from following my weight loss journey:  Of course I won’t make or eat this recipe these days.  I can’t have the sugar.  But I posted it fo family and  those who might like to have it.   It’s straight from Grandma’s recipe book.

As always, your comments are welcomed and appreciated.   If you know remember additional details or suggestions about these stories, I would love to hear them.

More Josephine Stories

Josephine’s Birth

School Days 

The Surprise Visit

Birth Family of Josephine (Pictures and Documents)

The Faith of Eda Stek (a story about Josephine’s aunt)

How to Get a No-Hitter in Weight Loss: Self Talk

Posted on by under baseball, morbid obesity, weight loss, Weight Loss Journey

As you know, I’m on a journey to lose somewhere in the range of 200 pounds.   I have also become a baseball fan, thanks to my husband. (You can read more about that here.)

On October 3, 2015 Dean and I were watching a Cubs game, when we learned that Max Scherzer was getting close to a no-hitter.  We flipped over to the Nationals game and were able to watch his final inning,  holding our breath at the final pitch.  It was amazing to witness  Max Scherzer becoming the 6th pitcher in Major League history to pitch two no-hitters in one season.

 

Max Scherzer by Keith Allison via Flickr CC BY-SA 2.0

CC BY-SA 2.0 Max Scherzer  Nationals at Orioles 7/11/15 by Keith Allison via Flickr

After the post-game celebrations, Dan Kolko from MASN interviewed the star pitcher and asked him a question:  “You took a long walk around the infield before the bottom of the 9th inning. You typically do that. What are you telling yourself as you’re getting ready to tow the rubber?”

Max replied, “Well, here we go. Let’s go! It’s on! You know, I’m pumping myself up, you know? I know what’s at stake and I want it. And so it’s one of those things when that’s where I get in my mode and come at you with all I’ve got.”

I sat there sort of stunned.  Then I asked Dean to replay the interview.   This pitcher was under intense pressure.  He did two things.  He took a walk and he pumped himself up.  It dawned on me that this was something I could apply to my weight loss journey.  Renewing my mind¹ is crucial.

When getting up in the morning, I start to think about what I’ll eat for breakfast.  (Food addicts always think about what they are going to eat.)  Instead of dreading another day of vegetables or thinking about what I can’t have, I talk to God about my plans for healthy eating and swimming.  In my mind I say:  “Let’s go! Let’s do this! It’s on! I know what’s at stake and I want it.”

Ten years ago I had my first no hitter in weight loss.  It seems impossible sometimes and against all the odds, but I’m working on the second one.

Video link to watch the interview.

To see my latest weight loss update go here.

¹Romans 12:2 ESV

Pinkalicious Eats Her Veggies

Posted on by under books, humor, weight loss, Weight Loss Journey

Just like Pinkalicious, I’ve had too many cupcakes, and now it’s time to eat veggies instead.

 

Pinkalicious is one of my daughter’s favorite books, and we’ve read it together numerous times.  But this week, it had new meaning for me.

The main character, against her parent’s advice, eats too many cupcakes.  In fact, she eats so many that she turns pink.   Her mother takes Pinkalicious to visit the doctor who says, “To return to normal, you must eat a steady diet of green food.”

Instead of following the doctor’s advice, Pinkalicious sneaks another cupcake and turns a bright shade of embarrassing red!   Finally, Pinkalicious succumbs to the doctor’s advice and starts eating green.

I ate pickles and spinach, olives and okra.  I choked down artichokes, gagged on grapes, and burped up Brussels sprouts. -Pinkalicious

Well, my life has been quite a bit like Pinkalicious lately.  I’m trying to return to “normal”, and in order to do that, I’m eating a steady diet of vegetables, fruit and protein.

I’m eating lettuce and greens, parsnips and sweet potato, quinoa and lentils.  Tuesday will be exciting, for it will be day eleven and I can add meat.  Yes, it’s a crazy time of year to go on an elimination diet, but it’s best gift that I can give my family and myself this year.

So look for me at the Christmas party.  I’ll be the one raiding the veggie and fruit platters.

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My latest weight loss update (guest post for Teresa Shields Parker):

Failure Leads to Transformation

For all weight loss updates go HERE.

 

 

 

 

I married a Chicago Cubs fan

Posted on by under Chicago Cubs, current events, marriage, parenthood

The past couple of weeks I’ve been blowing up my Facebook personal page with Chicago Cubs status updates. It was a thrill this year when they won the wild card against the Pirates, followed by a successful division series against the Cardinals.  Then there was the crushing defeat last night when the Mets swept them in the NLCS.

Truthfully, I have never been a sports person.  About 25 years ago there were sparks of enthusiasm for the high school basketball team, but the highlight was hanging out with friends on the bleachers.  It was all about socializing.  When Dad and the brothers watched their Detroit Tigers, you would have heard me complaining, because I preferred to watch my beloved Little House on the Prairie.

Years later, I met my Dean man.   He turned out to be a “sports guy”.  He enjoys watching  football and he loved playing church softball, but above all, he is a baseball guy.  And not just any baseball guy.  He is a Chicago Cubs fan.

gocubs

Dean grew up in suburban Chicago in the late 70’s.  His family had one small black and white television, complete with tin foil  antenna.  This tv could receive only one channel:  Chicago’s famous WGN.   Are you seeing the connection?  Dean, who is kind of shy, quiet, and was the only boy in the family with two sisters, tunes into the Chicago Cubs. Being a future math teacher, he started tracking  players and stats, even creating his very own game–a sort of baseball solitaire, if you will.   He was hooked. For life.

It’s no surprise that his favorite color is Cubbie blue.  When he asked me to marry him, there was one condition:  I had to attend a game at his beloved Wrigley Field first.

Karen's first Cub game

 

Since he required me to attend a Cub game, I told this city-boy that if he wanted to marry me, he had to milk a cow at my dad’s dairy farm.

misc 006

(I still consider it cheating, because he did not actually touch a cow’s udder, but merely hooked up a milker.)  I digress.

It was during our engagement that I made a decision:  This non-sports person, would become a Chicago Cubs fan too.  Of course, I was in love with the man.  But I also knew from experience that things you adore about the other person when you are dating, can easily become agitations in the future.   Since Dean loved to spend some of his free time watching 2-3 hour long baseball games, I decided I would not kick against the goads.  I would become a Cubs fan too.

We walked into our wedding reception with “Go Cubs Go” playing in the background.

Go Cubs Go!

Naturally, our first child was born on opening day.  We watched the first game of the season in my hospital room, and while you can’t see it in this picture, our son was already wearing his Chicago Cubs onesie with matching booties.

Go Cubs Go

 

We have indoctrinated our children to become Cub fans.  Normally super strict on bed times, we allowed them  to stay up late and watch play-off games the past couple of weeks.

Go Cubs!

In summary, here are some major perks to being married to a Cubs fan:

  • I can buy pretty much anything Cub themed, and my normally frugal husband doesn’t object.
  • It is a wonderful way to spend an evening.  You cannot imagine how much crocheting I can accomplish while spending time with my husband and watching the Cubs.
  • During the off season we keep track of the news, draft and trade information, so there is always good conversation.
  • We dream about someday traveling to watch the Cubs play in several ball parks across the country.
  • If Dean  is loyal to the Cubs through all their ups and some terrible downs, I have no doubt he will always be loyal to me.

Go Cubs Go!

 

How about you?  Have you become a sports fan via marriage?   Would love to hear your comments below.

Josephine’s Birth Family: Pictures and Documents

Posted on by under family history, Geneology

These are a couple of pages from the passports of two of my great-grandparents, who immigrated to the United States from Holland in February, 1921.

This is Meindert Van Dyk’s passport page. It includes pictures & descriptions of his three children, Anna, Sydney & John.   My grandmother, Josephine (their full sibling) was born in the United States three years later on April 30, 1924.

Meindert Van Dyk passport issued in February, 1921

This is a page from the passport of Anna Runia, wife of Meindert Van Dyk and mother of the children.

Anna Runia007

In 1924, Anna Runia gave birth to the couple’s 4th child.  She was my grandmother, Josephine.  But sadly, Anna died a few days later from complications of childbirth. You can read much more about that here.

Anna Runia's head stone

Anna Runia’s head stone located in Sully Cemetary, Lynn Grove township, Jasper County, Iowa.

John and Sydney Van Dyk, with their father Meindert. (Josephine's brothers and dad)

An undated photo of brothers John and Sydney Van Dyk, with their father Meindert. (Josephine’s brothers and father.)

If I recall correctly, Grandma (Josephine) told me that this picture was taken at the Christian Psychiatric Hospital in Cutlerville, Michigan where Sydney resided.  Sydney had cerebral palsey and passed away in 1950 at the age of 33.

Sydney Van Dyk

Below is a picture of Anna Runia’s brother and sister who visited her in Kalamazoo.  I believe this picture was taken in 1972.

L to R: Uncle Tunis Runia, his wife Nellie, Aunt Dirke & Uncle Sebring. Tunis and Dirke were brother and sister to Anna Runia.

L to R: Uncle Tunis Runia, his wife Nellie, Aunt Dirke & Uncle Sebring. Tunis and Dirke were brother and sister to Anna Runia.

I hope to add more pictures here in the future.

Your comments are always welcomed and appreciated.